“Indeed,” she hissed between her teeth, and forced herself to her feet again, swinging the whip up. “So I had thought!”
“Not that way! This tinker outfit is just a disguise!” Rod straightened in the saddle, squaring his shoulders. “I am Rodney Gallowglass, Lord High Warlock of Gramarye—and that woman back there is the Lady Gwendylon.”
She stared. Then her lips parted, and she whispered, “Give me a sign.”
“A sign?” Exasperated, Rod bit down on his irritation and forced himself to imagine just how paranoid he’d be feeling in her place. He took another deep breath, expelled it. “Oh, all right!” Rod closed his eyes and let his mind go blank, concentrating. His usual haze of needs and responsibilities seemed to ebb and clear, till he could hear his children’s voices, as though they were right next to him. He singled out the one who looked least threatening and thought, Gregory! Come here!
Air popped outward, and Gregory floated next to his shoulder. “Aye, Papa?”
The woman stared.
Then her knees gave way again, and she sat down, nodding weakly. “Aye. Thou art the High Warlock.”
“Papa?” Gregory cocked his head to the side, frowning up at his father. “Why didst thou call?”
“For what you just did, son.”
The child stared. “What did I?”
“You proved I’m what I said I was.” He turned back to the woman. “And whom have I the pleasure of addressing?”
Now it was her turn to pull herself together and remember her dignity. “I am Elyena, Duchess of Romanov.”
7
Rod steered the tottering horses off the road and into the meadow near Gwen, holding up the Duchess with his left arm. As he pulled them to a halt, she raised her head, looking about, then crowded closer to him. “The soldiers…”
Rod turned, and saw all the soldiers gathered in a knot under a low tree. Most of them held their heads in their hands. Some had lifted their gazes and were looking around, blinking, their faces drawn and uncertain. The knight lay by them with his helmet off. Gwen knelt over him.
“Don’t worry,” Rod said, trying to sound reassuring. “They feel as though they’ve just awakened from a bad dream. They’re on your side again.” He jumped down from the box. “Just stay there.”
She did, huddling into herself—and not looking at all reassured.
Rod sighed, and thought sharply, Cordelia!
The little girl leaped up halfway across the meadow and looked around. She located her father and jumped on her broomstick, zooming straight over to him. “Aye, Papa?”
Rod noticed the Duchess staring. Well, at least she was distracted. “Cordelia, this lady needs…”
But Cordelia was staring past him, toward the windows of the coach, and a delighted grin curved on her lips. “Children!”
Rod turned, surprised.
Two little faces filled one of the windows, looking about with frank curiosity.
Cordelia skipped past Rod, hands behind her back. The Duchess’s children watched her warily. Cordelia stopped right below them and cocked her head to the side. “I am hight Cordelia.”
They didn’t answer; they just stared.
Rod touched her shoulder. “They’ve been having some bad scares lately, honey.”
The elder boy looked up in indignation. “Was not scared!”
“Yeah, sure, you were calm as a mill pond. Just go easy, honey.”
“Oh, Papa!” she said, exasperated. “Can they not see I wish them no harm?” Before he could answer, she whirled away to the Duchess. “May I play with them?”
The Duchess stared down at her. Then, slowly, she said, “Why… an they wish it… certes.”
That they would wish it, Rod did not doubt; he knew his daughter. Already, the two boys were watching her with marked interest.
“Oh, good!” Cordelia spun back to the children. “I have brothers, too. Thou mayst play with them also, an thou dost wish it.”
The two boys still looked wary, but Cordelia’s friendliness was infectious. The younger opened the coach door, and stepped out. “I,” he said, “am Gaston.”
Rod turned away, quite certain the Duchess’s attention would be fully occupied for a while, and went over to his wife.
As he came up, she sat back on her heels, gazing down at the knight and shaking her head. Instantly, Rod was alert. “What’s the matter? Is the hypnosis too strong?”
Gwen shook her head again. “I have broke the spell, my lord. Yet I can bring him no closer to life than this.”
Rod turned, staring down at the knight. He saw a lined face and bald head, with a fringe of gray hair. His skin was gray, and covered with a sheen of sweat. Guilt swept through Rod. He knelt beside the knight. “But it was only 120 volts! Only fifteen amperes! And I only hit him with it for a few seconds!”
Gwen shook her head. “It may have as easily been the fall, my lord. His heart had stopped, and I labored to make it begin to beat again.”
“Heart attack?” Rod took a closer look at the knight. “He’s middle-aged—and he’s let himself sag out of shape.” He shook his head, looking up at Gwen. “There was no way I could tell that. He had his helmet on, and the visor was down.”
“In truth, thou couldst not,” she agreed, “and anything thou hadst done to stop him, might have hurt him this badly.” She lifted her eyes, gazing into his. “Yet, my lord, I misdoubt me an ‘twas any action of thine that did strike him down. He had ridden too many miles in harness.”
Rod nodded slowly. “Whoever sent him out to lead a troop in full armor, at his age, must’ve seen him only as a thing, not a person. Who…? No, cancel that. Of course—who else? Alfar.”
“We will tend him, milady.”
Gwen looked up, and saw the sergeant kneeling across from her.
“Sir Verin is old, but dear to us,” the soldier explained. “How he came to this pass, we know not. We will tend him.” He lifted his head, showing haunted eyes. “Lady—what have our bodies done, the whiles our souls slept?”
“Naught that is any fault of thine.” She touched his hand, smiling gently. “Trouble not thine heart.”
Geoffrey darted up beside her. “Mama! There are children! May we go play?”
Gwen looked up, startled. “Why…”
“We’ve got company,” Rod explained.
A short while later, the parents sat around a hasty campfire while the children played nearby. The Duchess sat, shivering in spite of the sun’s midday warmth. Gwen had fetched a blanket from Fess’s pack and wrapped it around her, but the poor lady still shivered with reaction. She gazed at the children, who were winding up a raucous game of tag. “Ah, bless them! Poor mites.” Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. “They know not the meaning of what hath happed.”
“Thou hast not told them, then?” Gwen said softly.
The Duchess shook her head. “They know what they have seen, and no more.” She looked up at Rod, a hard stare. “And I will not tell them until I know.”
Rod stared back, and nodded slowly. “Why not? Your husband could still be alive. It’s even possible that he’s well.”
The Duchess nodded slowly, maintaining the glare. But she couldn’t hold it long, and her head dropped.
Nearby, the children collapsed in a panting tangle.
“Nay, but tell!” Cordelia cajoled. “Didst thou truly see the evil sorcerer?”
“Nay,” said the youngest; and “We saw naught,” said the eldest. “Naught save the inside of our keep. Mother penned us there, and would not even let us go so far as the window.”